Page 5 of Reckless Single Daddy

My gaze locks with the figure’s for several seconds. They appear frozen in place. Then a car passes between us, and they’re gone like they never existed, leaving me reeling all the more after this totally surreal evening.

Chapter three

Cade

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Last night got away from me. I didn’t intend for things to escalate as they did with Sloane, but I couldn’t help it. Seeing her reminded me of all these conflicted emotions I’ve felt for her over the last decade. They’ve have been pent up for so long, they burst inside me as if someone had bombed the Hoover Dam.

I didn’t even really think my feelings ran all that deep for her, other than noticing her obvious beauty. She’s a decade younger than me, and my best friend’s youngest sister. The last time I visited Rose Valley while living in D.C., Sloane was going offto some big art school in NYC, and I had long taken my leap working for—well, that isn’t important anymore.

I thought that if I made something of myself, it’d make me seem important. My entire life, I fit a mold that my late parents expected me to, and I thought if I kept fitting it, I’d reap the benefits. And I did. Now, I run one of the most successful investment firms in the state of New York, and that is due to my hard work and perseverance—to the point I guess you could call me a workaholic. After what happened in D.C., my only dream was to give back to the place I called home, but not at the expense of seeming like a good person or building a reputation for myself. So most of the time, I’m what you call a “silent partner,” if you will.

But after how put off Sloane was by me last night, I know she will probably never see me that way. It isn’t that I hoped to receive her approval or show her I’m not the guy she thinks I am, but I guess… maybe… ah, who am I kidding? I care a little bit about her opinion. It’s hard not to when she’s this successful artist doing what she loves, and all she has to go off is the boyish playboy I once was.

A decade is a long time to make up for when I know she’s only back for a few weeks. But something tells me it’ll be worth it to try reconnecting with her. Though I still have to wonder why I care so much?

Sitting inside my office, I ponder what to do about this situation. Again, last night did not go as I had planned, and part of mestill can’t believe what possessed me to go after Sloane. It was not part of my plan to hook up with Sloane inside O’Malley’s bathroom and have some of the best sex of my life.

The thought alone leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Not because it happened—I actually loved the spontaneity of it, the raw passion behind our animalistic attraction to each other, and I came harder and faster than I could remember in years. But it felt wrong afterward, and I could tell Sloane felt the same from the way she refused to look at me.

She deserves better than a one-night stand in a pub bathroom. It’s grimy and something I wouldn’t do, even with a woman I didn’t even know, let alone a woman I’ve known my entire life.

Guilt washes over me that I surrendered to a weak moment with my best friend’s little sister. Oh, well. What’s done is done, and I just have to deal it. It won’t happen again. I’ll make sure it won’t. And I doubt very much that Sloane’s about to tell Mike or Mia or anyone else about it.

I sigh heavily, running my hands over my face, leaning back in my expensive office chair I probably didn’t need but was told was ergonomic. Thoughts of Sloane are consuming me to the point where I can no longer focus on my work—something that almost never happens. I couldn’t sleep the night before, so I don’t doubt that I have dark circles and bags under my eyes.

I get up from my chair and walk over to the window, looking over the town below. The building where my firm resides isn’t ostentatious, but it certainly sticks out like a sore thumb in our small town, where most buildings don’t reach above two to three stories. Mine reaches five. I can get a clear view of Rose Valley, especially downtown. Sometimes, I can even spot people who have lived here as long as I’ve been alive, like Mrs. Weaver, the town’s florist. You can always trust that she will have a rose waiting for you every Valentine’s Day and make the most remarkable centerpieces for any occasion. Then there’s Mr. Hathorne, the owner of the only lumber and hardware store in town. You can always trust he knows exactly what you need, how long it’d take to get the job done, and, best of all, he is willing to come out to help build whatever it is you need. Yes, even in his seventies. This town, these people, is what makes it special.

I guess that’s why I was angry with Sloane last night. A decade has gone by, and not a single time did she think of returning to see anyone. Not even her family, though they came to visit her plenty of times. Are her dreams really worth more than her roots in this town? Does she think she’s too good for us, now that she’s making a name for herself and presumably hobnobbing with wealthy art collectors?

In hindsight, I was never her friend growing up. I don’t know what’s actually going through her mind as far as her attitude toward Rose Valley. I can only judge based on what I see.

Why do I even care so much, though? Hell, why am I even trying to make sense of it?

It doesn’t have to be this way—me thinking about her constantly. I could just forget all about last night, the way her legs wrapped around my waist and the sweet smell of her skin when I nestled my face into her neck, but I can’t. It’s like I’ve gotten a taste of a heady drug, and I’ve grown addicted at the mere thought getting a hold of it again.

It shouldn’t be this way between us… but it just is.

I sigh once more and grab my coat. Maybe a walk downtown will clear my head so I can go back to finalizing the marina negotiations.

I walk out and glance at Merin, my assistant. “Hold my calls,” I say. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

She doesn’t look up from her computer, just nods in acknowledgment. That’s Merin for you: always hard at work and never stops, not even for the boss. No wonder I value her so much.

I step out, and a small gust of wind circles around me. I take a deep breath and allow myself to bask in the fresh air for a moment. Before starting Hart Inc., I called D.C. home for years. I got my degree and made something of myself out there, I guess you could say, until Rose Valley called me back. It was a learning experience, and one without regrets, but sometimes I wish I had never left D.C. Then again, I think I needed to so I could see the good in this town.

I wish Sloane could see it, too.

I walk along the downtown streets, feeling a sense of peace as I pass by all the familiar places, until I stop short in front of Caffeine n’ Fiction. I smile softly as I see Sloane browsing through the books with her coffee in hand. It’s like I’m transported back nearly ten years ago, when I had just gotten back to Rose Valley for a visit. I needed a coffee desperately, and there she was, roaming the art section of the bookstore.

I see some things haven’t changed.

I go inside, and the bell rings overhead as Jerome, the owner, walks out from the back. “Oh, hey, Cade, what can I get ya?” he asks.

I look over to where Sloane stands. She seems not to have noticed me, absorbed as she is in her book. Her coffee cup pressed against her lips despite not drinking it. She casually sways back and forth.

I look back at Jerome. “How about a hazelnut latte with a hint of mocha, double shot of espresso, please,” I tell him, and he nods firmly, stepping away to make my drink.

I suddenly become aware of a presence next to me, but I don’t look at them. “If you want to have a heart attack, there are easier ways to do it than that coffee order,” Sloane says.

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